Lord of the Runes Read Online Free PDF

count for something. Asa knelt and put more wood on the low fire.
    The flames leapt between them as she studied him, forming a protective wall. If only she could stay here, he on one side, she on the other.
    He still lay on his back, his hair spread out over the furs. He shifted, moaning, and threw back the covers. A moist sheen glowed on his face in the firelight. Her stomach lurched. Her fear no longer mattered and she dashed around the fire to him and put a hand on his forehead.
    His skin burned. She sat back on her heels, her heart pounding. Ingeborg, the healer, was in her own house and the blizzard still raged outside, so she would have no help. Not until the storm passed, anyway.
    Wrapping her shawl tight around her, she took a bucket outside. The cold wind hit her like a sword blow. No wonder he was ill. It could only have been the will of the Norns that he survived, and it made no sense for them to take him now.
    She gathered snow and went back inside. She set down the bucket and made her way through the darkness into the cooking room. She searched through the jars and vials on the shelves until she found the one she sought. Yarrow.
    She dipped a bowl into a pot of hot water hanging over the cooking fire and tossed in a handful of the dried yarrow. She might not be able to cook, but at least she could do this, for many people had fevers during the winters and an infusion of it was a well-known cure. The brew was bitter, so she found ajar of honey and poured a measure into a soapstone cup. Balancing everything on a wooden tray, she took it back into the common room and set it all down near the traveler.
    She moved the bowl nearer to the fire so it would remain warm, and settled herself at his side. His eyes were glazed over with fever, staring at nothing. She dipped a cloth into the snow water and put it on his forehead. He jerked, tossing his head, trying to shake it off, but she persisted.
    â€œDon’t make me get one of my brothers to hold you down. They don’t like to be awakened in the middle of the night. You’ll have to contend with me.”
    She ran the cold, damp cloth down his strong neck, to beneath his tunic. A lump lay under the material and she lifted his shirt. A solid gold hammer of Thor hung on a thick gold chain over his chest. She pulled back. Wealth, indeed. Whoever he was, he must have a family, people who would miss him. A wife.
    It was no matter to her. She wet the cloth again and ran it over his face. He quieted, closing his eyes, though he hadn’t seemed to see her. The sleeves of his shirt weren’t gathered at the wrists, so she slid the cloth underneath and drew it down his right arm. It was like iron under her hand.
    His scent came to her, very male, hinting of leather, horse, and the winds. She washed his left arm, leaning across him to do so. Except for brief hugs from her brothers, she hadn’t been this close to a man since—
    Fear rose in her throat. This was different. He was different. At least, right now it would be safe to be near him, when he was feverish and weak.
    Finished with his arm, she tried to sit back, but a tug on her braid stopped her. She looked down. He held it with his right hand, watching her.
    â€œAlways your touch was gentle.” His voice was so soft, she almost didn’t hear him. “Have I gone where you are, Sela? I’ve dreamed often of you. Are you truly here?”
    What could she say to that? She had to make him let go of her. “I must wash you and make you well. I can’t do that with you holding me.”
    â€œSo long since I have touched you.” He raised his free hand and cupped her cheek. She held her breath, her heart racing. She had to keep very still, fight down the panic that would surely come.
    His touch was gentle, not like the only other she had known. She closed her eyes, exhaling, dreading the fear, the memories. Though they stirred, they didn’t awaken. He ran his hand down her cheek to